N7
by Residential DeadMan
Summary: A direct prequel to Mass Effect, this story follows Shepard as he is first granted N7 status and leads right into the opening moments of Mass Effect. When a turian diplomat is assassinated on Earth, Shepard, Anderson, and others must locate and stop the assassin, who is apparently working for Cerberus.
1. The Lone Survivor

Chapter 1

The Lone Survivor

Commander David Anderson sat quietly aboard the _Kennedy_, thinking on what had transpired over the course of the last few hours. The Alliance had sent him and the _Kennedy_ to Akuze to respond to the distress signal laid out by the team there. Not much was known about the operation. Some say they were tracking batarian movements. Others claim they were on a mission from Cerberus. Anderson had scoffed at the idea. Cerberus had announced their withdrawal from the Alliance years ago. They were very quickly replaced with the N7 program as the go-to place for secret operations. No. Alliance marines wouldn't be caught dead working with Cerberus. They'd sooner get in bed with the turians.  
The site they launched the distress signal from was a mess, to say the least. The thresher maw wiped out the camp, along with most of the marines. Six or so had made it to the caves, four dying soon after from injuries caused by the attack. When the maw found them, they ran for it, trying to find somewhere else to hold out until the Alliance could arrive to save them. But they were all killed. All but one.

When Anderson first saw Shepard, the boy was a mess. Blood cover him from head to toe, he had several broken bones, and the look in his eyes told the story: everyone was dead. He had barricaded himself in another system of caves, using explosive charges to collapse the entrance, then activated his Personal Emergency Beacon. By the time the _Kennedy_ got there, he was so far gone, he didn't remember a thing, not even his name. He pulled a gun on the rescue team, prompting a young officer, Riley, to shoot him in the leg. Anderson scolded him, telling him to go wait outside. He then tried to comfort the young soldier, offering medi-gel and a way home. The boy nodded slowly, his senses slowly coming back to him. Then he fell unconscious.

Anderson rubbed his eyes as he finished his report. He'd gotten a message a few minutes earlier from Ambassador Donell Udina, who demanded to see the soldier in person. Anderson didn't like it. Udina was a politician, and a shady one at that. What could he possibly want with Shepard?

His thoughts were interrupted by his cabin door opening and the medical officer saluting him. "Sir?" she asked.

Anderson recognized her. Her name was Dr. Michelle Thomas. She was accepted into the Alliance at a very young age, due to her outstanding aptitude test results. She was a medical officer aboard the _Kennedy_ in less than four years. Anderson saluted back. "What is it, Doctor?"

"It's Lieutenant Shepard, sir," Dr. Thomas replied. "He's awake."

Anderson nodded. _Good_, he thought._ Maybe we can find out what really happened down there._ "I'll head down right away to see him," he said. Dr. Thomas saluted again and left the cabin. Anderson sighed. _Here we go._

Shepard faded in and out of consciousness multiple times over the course of a few hours. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had happened on Akuze wasn't over. The memories flashed repeatedly through his mind, allowing him no quarter. The camp being destroyed. Being chased across the desert sand by a giant monster. His fellow soldiers dying all around him, being powerless to stop it. It wouldn't let up.

He didn't remember much about his rescue, though the feeling in his right leg suggested he'd been shot. An idea ran through his head that maybe it wasn't a rescue at all, but a capturing. Cerberus was an enemy of the Alliance, and would probably have loved nothing more than to get their hands on a marine. It would certainly explain him being handcuffed to the bed. But the Alliance symbol was displayed clearly on multiple monitors. Cerberus had dropped that symbol years ago, stating that it had no more meaning for them.

The door to the medical wing opened unexpectedly and Shepard found himself looking into the eyes of someone he'd only ever seen in the vids on Earth. He never once considered the possibility of actually meeting him. Commander Anderson was older than Shepard remembered, but he'd aged well, so far as he could tell. Anderson smiled warmly. "How are you feeling, son?" he asked.

_Like hell_, Shepard thought. But answering in this manner would not have helped his current predicament any, so he replied, "I'll live, sir."

Anderson nodded. "Glad to hear it." Shepard braced himself for what was coming. "Do you remember anything from down there? Anything that might shed some light on the situation?"

Shepard shook his head. "It's all kind of blurred together right now. There was a thresher maw. The camp was destroyed. The others…." he closed his eyes, unable to bear the barrage of pain stabbing his mind. "I think I was the only one to make it."

Anderson nodded slowly, understandably. "Well," he began, but he cut himself short. He wanted to ask about what he was doing there, but he couldn't, not here. This wasn't the right time or place. "We'll get this sorted out once we get planetside."

Shepard looked up, confused. "Sir?"

"We're docking at Earth in twenty minutes," Anderson replied. He noted the look of small relief on Shepard's face. He then walked to the console next to Shepard's bed and pressed his hand against a button. The shackles around Shepard's wrists broke free, and Shepard rubbed his wrists to get feeling back into them. Anderson nodded. "Welcome home, soldier."

As Anderson left the medical wing, one thought plagued his mind.

_That poor kid is gonna live with this the rest of his life._


	2. Status Granted

_Edit: So, it turns out Michael Dorn is an actual person... He's a voice actor (for Mass Effect, no less), so I don't think uising his name for this is a good idea... I'm changing the last name to Hollister._

Chapter 2

Status Granted

Shepard hadn't been to Earth in nearly four years. To see it now, closing in fast toward the window of the crew quarters, was almost too much to bear. There were a lot of memories on Earth, not all of them good. But all of them were significant.

Shepard was born and raised on Earth. San Diego, to be more precise. Not by his parents, of course. Whoever they were, they were long gone now. Had been since the day he was born. Members of a gang known as the Tenth Street Reds took him in and made him one of them. As soon as he was old enough, Shepard began taking on jobs for the Reds, many of which ended with him getting into trouble with the police. Shepard would always be loyal to the Reds, though, never selling them out or betraying them in any way. They were more than his friends. They were the only family he'd ever known.

Then Michael Hollister was recruited.

Shepard knew that Hollister was trouble the moment he laid eyes on him. The Reds were known as lawless, but this guy was just crazy. More xenophobic than any Cerberus member Shepard had heard about. He once blew up an entire embassy of asari "in the Reds' name". Shepard knew Hollister had to go. So did Swift, the gang's leader. But she saw something in Hollister. Something Shepard or the rest of the gang could not see.

"He's too dangerous," Shepard protested.

Swift smiled. "Shepard," she began. But the words she wanted to say were quickly dropped. She kissed him instead. "I love you, but you really need to let me deal with these things. I can take care of myself."

Shepard sighed and held her closer. "I just don't know…" he said. "What if another incident like the one with the asari embassy happens again? You know the rest of the galaxy hates humans."

Swift smiled and shook her head. "The galaxy does not hate humans. They're just not sure what to make of us yet."

"Well, if things keep going the way they're going, they're gonna make up their minds about us very quickly. Swift… I know this is your show, but I've got a feeling about this guy. We can't afford to take any risks. Not now."

Swift thought for a moment. _God_, Shepard thought. _Even in a situation like this, she's distracting to look at._ After a moment, Swift made up her mind. "Okay," she said. "If it means that much to you, I'll take care of it." Shepard smiled and kissed her again.

Soon, after the embassy incident, Swift kept her word. She excommunicated Hollister from the Reds. But Hollister was more cunning and persuasive than any of the Reds had been prepared for. He took multiple members with him, then attacked the Reds head-on. The battle lasted for hours, with casualties on both sides. Hollister personally executed Swift in front of Shepard, pleasurably noting the pained expression on the helpless man's face. He then moved to kill Shepard, but Shepard used what strength he had left to tackle Hollister out of the window. Hollister was killed, and Shepard was arrested. While in prison, Shepard was approached by an Alliance captain identifying himself as Hackett. He offered Shepard the chance to join the Alliance, to escape not only prison, but the gang life Shepard had been a part of for so long. Shepard thought about Hackett's offer for three days before accepting. There was nothing left for him in the Reds. Not anymore.

Anderson interrupted Shepard's thoughts. "Everything okay?" he asked. Shepard nodded, trying to decide if he was trying to convince Anderson or himself. Either way, it didn't seem to be working. "We'll be landing in a couple of minutes. Get whatever gear you have and meet me at the airlock after we dock."

Shepard saluted. "Yes, sir."

Ambassador Donnel Udina was waiting for Anderson outside the _Kennedy_'s airlock. He never really liked soldiers. They were gruff, uncivilized, and preferred to fight out their differences rather than come to any sort of agreement. Humanity was ready to fight the turians to the death in the First Contact War, never once considering a peaceful solution. It took the Council, three representatives from the galaxy's most influential and powerful races, to quell the fighting and bring about a tense peace between the two races. That was the kind of power politicians had.

That was the kind of power Udina wanted.

Anderson greeted the ambassador with a firm handshake. "Ambassador," he said, with only a hint of an icy tone in his voice.

"Commander," Udina replied, not bothering to hide his contempt. "How is the survivor?"

"He's alive. I suppose that's something."

_Of course it's something, you twit_, Udina thought bitterly. "And his psychological condition?" he demanded.

Now it was Anderson showing bitterness. "He watched his entire unit die and couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. How do you think that affected him psychologically?"

_Pretty badly, I'd imagine_, Udina thought. But it wasn't any of his concern. Shepard was a survivor of a brutal thresher maw attack. The human public would view him as a hero, and if Udina backed him, he'd be praised by the community. "I want to speak with him," he said simply.

Anderson held up his hand. "I'm not sure that's-"

Udina cut him off. "Immediately."

Anderson opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Udina's face told him there was no changing his mind. Seeing no alternative, Anderson consented. _I hope that kid's ready for this_, he thought.

Shepard waited uncomfortably in the ambassador's office. He knew what this was about, of course. He'd followed politics all of his life, though he rarely admitted it. Unlike other soldiers, he didn't see it as a waste of time. Of course, he wouldn't be caught dead doing it. He was a very… spirited person, to say the least. At last, Udina, entered the office, the look on his face a cross between contemptuous and smug.

Shepard hated him already.

Udina sat down, bringing up Anderson's report on Shepard's rescue with his omni-tool. "How's the leg?" he asked, though Shepard got the feeling that he didn't really care.

"Stings. But it's nothing."

Udina smiled. "I'll bet. Getting shot tends to hurt, or so I'm told." He looked back at the report. "One thing is missing from here: the reason for the operation." He looked up at Shepard, and was only mildly shocked and mostly pleased to see the boy's face had hardened to an angry scowl that he tried, unsuccessfully to contain. "Why were you there, Lieutenant?"

Shepard had to resist the urge to punch Udina in the face. His whole unit was dead, and this asshole was interrogating him about why he was there? "That's classified," he said flatly.

"There's no such thing as classified on a failed mission, Lieutenant Shepard. If you don't tell me, how can I prove that you and your unit were on official Alliance business?"

"Ask Captain Hackett."

"I'm asking you."

"I can't talk about the mission. We were all told not to mention it to anyone."

"Why?"

"Those were our orders."

Udina scoffed. "And you mean to tell me you _always _follow your orders?"

This caught Shepard by surprise. What was Udina playing at?

Udina pulled up another report. "This is from Captain Hackett. Dated October 3rd, 2179. 'Lieutenant Shepard disobeyed a direct order yesterday. He was ordered to attack the batarian squad from behind, and yet he still insisted on a more guerilla-styled approach. He took his squad and hid in the trees, and when the rest of us engaged the enemy, he opened fire on the batarians, quickly defeating them. Our own side suffered no casualties, the sole reason I am not recommending any action be taken against him.'" Udina looked up at Shepard, still smiling smugly. "I can pass this on to your superiors at any time. Without Hackett's generosity, of course. You'll probably be demoted, possibly even court-martialed."

Shepard swallowed hard. He was blackmailing him? Was he serious? He couldn't believe it. Finally, he spoke. "Fuck you."

Soon after, Udina contacted Anderson. "I want him promoted. Staff Lieutenant. Make it happen, as soon as possible." Then another thought struck him. "Oh, and grant him N7 status."


	3. In Good Faith

Chapter 3

In Good Faith

Two Years Later

The academy was relatively small, but enough to house four hundred students. Some, like Shepard, were there for N7 training. The rest were there as a part of Grissom Academy's Ascension Program, a school for potential biotics. After the discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars, the scientists discovered technology that fused with organic DNA to give the user telekinetic abilities. But, like anything having to do with genetics, not everyone was compatible with it. So far, the asari were the only ones with every member of their species able to use biotics. The Ascension Program allowed humans with the right genes to learn to control their abilities. The program's campus happened to be shared with that of N7 Academy's.

Shepard slowly headed to his dorm. Classes were especially brutal, with technical theory once again proving to be a pain in the ass. The majority of Shepard's technical knowledge was hacking into door locks with his omni-tool. But the class taught about the different types of armor, the technical advantages of each of them, the importance of using omni-gel for Mako repairs, what exactly omni-gel does in the systems, and those were the easiest of the lessons. He wasn't in danger of failing the class, so far as he knew, but he wasn't in much of a hurry to get to the next lesson. The homework for this week was a three page essay on the salarian Verned Foers' dissertation on elcor communication technologies. _Kill me now_, Shepard thought.

Shepard reached his dorm room, opened the door, and stopped cold. His roommate, Kaidan Alenko, was laying in bed, and the way it was rocking, Shepard had a feeling Alenko wasn't having a bad night's sleep. "Shit," he muttered. He quickly closed the door and waited in the hallway. A few minutes later, the door opened back up and an asari shyly stepped out and walked away quickly. Asari came to the academy from time to time, hoping the program could help them control their abilities better. That, and to study humans. Shepard stepped inside his room and saw a blushing Alenko sitting on his bed.

"Sorry about that, Shepard," he said quietly.

Shepard shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Not like I've never done the same thing." He hadn't, actually. It wasn't that there were no attractive women at the academy. He was just preoccupied with trying to get through and achieve N7 status. But Alenko didn't need to know that. Especially since he was just caught in the act. "How's the implant?" he asked.

Biotics from Alenko's generation were given L2 implants to help them harness their biotic potential. The problem was, the implants were never developed properly, causing severe headaches and even death to the users. Alenko was one of the lucky ones, though he was still often plagued by headaches. Alenko shrugged. "No worse than usual. It's actually starting to dumb down a little bit." Shepard nodded. "How's the ranking?"

"Coming along. Slowly, though. I'm starting to wonder if Udina's offer was so bad after all." Udina had offered Shepard N7 status without academy training, mostly to gain support from the people. Shepard had declined, partly because he wanted to earn it, and partly as an insult to Udina.

Alenko grinned. "Yeah, well if the Human Ambassador to the Council offered me a pass, I'm not sure I could pass it up.

Shepard shrugged. "Wasn't that hard, really," he explained. "Udina's a prick. Not really that hard to say no to him." He sat down at his kiosk and pulled up his messages. There was the usual, spam, offers to subscribe to an omni-tool magazine, a report on a quarian immune system breakthrough that was falsified. One thing caught his eye: a message from Commander David Anderson.

"Lieutenant. A turian ambassador is arriving at Earth tomorrow for a meeting with Udina. A political show of good faith on both sides. Udina and I would like you to be there to help oversee security. Please contact me with your response. Staff Commander David Anderson."

Shepard read the message over several times before sending his response. Of course he wanted to do some work. Beat writing an essay. And a turian ambassador on Earth? It was history in the making. One step closer to humanity being accepted in the galaxy. Being part of the security detail was a big deal, as only the top operatives in the Alliance military were allowed for such an event. Shepard contacted Anderson and accepted the offer. _Who knows? _he thought. _Maybe I'll actually enjoy a bit of politics, for once._

Later that night, Shepard was put on a transport bound for Earth. Arcturus was far behind him by the time Shepard could look out of a window. As the mass relay charged the ship and prepared it for the jump to the Sol system, Shepard felt the familiar tingling of mass effect energy running through him and everyone else on the ship. Immediately after, the void of space seemed to disappear behind the transport. Shepard closed his eyes. _Headed home, _he thought.

On Shepard's arrival, he was immediately taken to the turian embassy to prepare for the ambassador's arrival. Anderson greeted him as he exited the shuttle. "How's the academy treating you?" he asked.

"About as well as you'd expect, I guess," Shepard replied. He figured he'd leave out the part about his struggling tech grades. Not that he could keep it from Anderson. As a superior officer and N7 status operative himself, Anderson had access to all of Shepard's files. Shepard decided to change the subject. "So who's this ambassador coming in?" he asked.

"Dhalen Orion," Anderson replied. "One of Palaven's oldest and wisest politicians. He's the one who handled the turian surrender at Shanxi."

Shepard nodded. He remembered hearing Orion's name a number of times through the galactic news. Decorated war veteran, former general, retired after the First Contact War. He was personally responsible for getting humans the reinforcements they needed to hold off the batarians during the Skyllian Blitz. Now here he was again, pulling a publicity stunt with Udina. At least, that's how Shepard saw it. Tense as the relationship between humans and turians was, a meeting between the two ambassadors was unnecessary. Thing was, Shepard had a feeling Udina had more of a hand in this get-together than Orion. Humans had been trying to get a seat on the council for over three decades. And the word of the turian ambassador carried a lot of weight.

Anderson noticed Shepard's expression and guessed what he was thinking. "It's a big deal that he's here. Proof that humans and turians can cooperate. At least, it's supposed to be."

Shepard shrugged. "Political psychology wasn't exactly my major, Commander," he said, a bit too bluntly.

Anderson didn't seem to mind. "Fair enough," he replied, smiling slightly. "Better get some rest. There's a big day tomorrow."

"Understood, sir."

The following morning, Shepard stood anxiously alongside Anderson, four other Alliance soldiers, and Udina. He'd seen plenty of turians, of course. Even had the chance to serve with a few. But he still felt uneasy. He couldn't put a finger on what it was.

As the shuttle landed, Udina bounded forward, followed closely by his security detail. The shuttle door opened, and an aging turian stepped out, followed by three younger turians. Each of them had a serious face, yet Orion seemed less somber. He even greeted Udina with a warm smile (at least, Shepard thought he was smiling) and a firm handshake. "Ambassador Udina. How are you?" he asked.

Udina returned Orion's smile, though Shepard noted a hint of disdain that he saw as common for the human ambassador. "Dhalen Orion," he replied, not bothering to answer Orion's question. "Welcome to Earth."

Orion looked around, seemingly impressed. "It looks even more beautiful than in the vids," he replied. He turned to one of his colleagues. "Callus, sweep the perimeter, if you don't mind." The turian nodded and set off.

Udina frowned. "I assure you, Ambassador, that is not necessary."

"It's just an added precaution," explained Orion calmly. "You never know what might happen. If it makes you feel any better, one of your own can accompany him."

Udina nodded, obviously unhappy. He turned to Shepard. "Shepard, sweep the perimeter with the turian. Report any problems directly to me."

Shepard nodded and jogged to catch up to the turian. Orion looked after them for a moment. "You know," he said, "sometimes I miss being a soldier. Things were much more… simple then." He turned back to the group of humans and looked straight at Anderson. "Wouldn't you agree, Commander?"

Anderson clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, sir," he replied. "I would."

Orion chuckled. "I'm not a 'sir'. Not anymore." He looked back to the two soldiers walking along the landing pad, looking for any sign of trouble."No, I'm just an old man, waiting for eternity. Trying to make the galaxy a bit brighter. Trying to pass on everything I've learned. Callus is… difficult to teach. He understands morality, but not trust. I've been trying to teach him for years that trust is just as important as any weapon he can get his hands on."

Anderson smiled slightly. "So you've known him for a long time, then?" he asked, much to the disdain of Udina.

Orion turned back to Anderson, clearly enjoying his conversation with the veteran. "Well, I should. He's my son."

At that moment Shepard and Callus returned to the group. "Perimeter's clear, so far as I can tell," the turian said, an icy edge to his tone.  
"Very good," Udina said, happy to once again be relevant. "Let's continue this conversation indoors. Perhaps over a drink?"

Orion smiled again. "Ah, yes. That sounds like an excellent idea. I'm absolutely parched."

The group took a few steps to the entrance when Orion stopped suddenly. Callus looked over at his father, concerned. "Sir?" he asked. Orion looked down at his abdomen as blood began to spill from it. Then he fell over, dead. "No!" Callus yelled, running to him. He looked around frantically, trying to locate the source of the shot. Shepard did the same, trying to rememver his training. Where the ambassador was standing, where the bullet hit… He and Callus saw the spot at the same time. "There!" Callus yelled, running to the shuttle.

_Damn it! _Shepard thought. _This got out of hand in a hurry…_


	4. Chasing the Assassin

Chapter 4

Chasing the Assassin

Callus leaped into the driver's seat of the shuttle and gunned the engine. Without thinking, Shepard jumped into the passenger's side. Callus threw him a glance, but he didn't have time to argue with him. The assassin was probably already moving.

Shepard hadn't said much in their walk along the perimeter. He asked Callus's name, but nothing more. Whether it was from respect, fear, or some other factor, Callus wasn't sure. But he was glad Shepard had the decency not to talk too much. Many humans, when in the presence of a turian, wouldn't stop talking. They'd ask about turian lifestyles, their families, what stick was always up their species ass. Callus ignored these idiots as much as he could, but Shepard didn't seem to be one of them. It didn't mean he had to like him.

The apartment complex across the river was the location the shot came from. Both soldiers saw the area at the same time, showing similar methods of training. Callus was the first to react, knowing Dhalen would want him to find his killer rather than mourn him. Whoever the assassin was, he was a damn good shot. The river was at least four miles across. The story behind the area was that a flood wiped out a large section of the city in 2106, adding to the already large amount of water. It chilled Callus slightly to think that he was driving over a section of water that used to house a hundred people, at the very least.

As the complex drew closer, Callus could see Shepard readying his pistol, a Kessler II. Fairly standard, for Alliance protocols. The turians preferred the Razor line from Kassa Fabrications, but to each their own, right? Callus readied his own Razor IV, a family heirloom. As the oldest child in his family, Dhalen had given it to him when he was ten years old. Now that he was dead, Callus supposed that he would receive his father's old Striker VII sniper rifle as well.

It wasn't hard to find the apartment where the shot was fired. The shot shattered the glass, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the building. Callus parked the shuttle next to the window and jumped into the room. Shepard quickly followed, checking his corners to ensure no one could get the drop on them. Another fairly typical Alliance maneuver. Callus was more interested in where the assassin had gone. He checked each room before a scream caused him to jerk his head to the hallway outside the apartment. Gunfire quickly followed. He ran to the door, meeting with Shepard before running into the hallway and barely catching a glimpse of him before the elevator doors closed. Callus futilely fired several shots in the assassin's direction, but the elevators were too fast to be caught in any bullet's path. He was definitely human, but other than that, Callus couldn't tell much more about him.

"Come on!" Shepard called, already running back to the shuttle. Callus followed, letting Shepard do the driving this time. This was his world, after all. He'd know how to catch the assassin in this thing better than he could. Shepard grimly obliged.

By the time they reached the bottom, the assassin was already out of the building and sprinting through the crowd. Shepard steered the shuttle toward the direction he was running and gunned the throttle, sending the soldiers speeding toward the assassin. The bastard was fast, but he was no match for the speed of the shuttle, and soon they were almost on top of him. Shepard was careful, however. It was the middle of the day, and the foot traffic in the area was high, even for Earth. Any one of them was a potential for collateral damage. Throw all of them into the mix, and the risk factor went up considerably. Shepard kept the shuttle as far away from the civilians as he could without losing sight of the assassin. He needn't have bothered. Callus could see him clearly. He opened his door and prepared his pistol, aiming for the bastard's head. Suddenly, the shuttle jerked to the left, ruining Callus's aim. "What the hell?!" he demanded, glaring at Shepard.

"Not with the civilians down there!" Shepard lectured, – at least, that's how Callus saw it – turning the shuttle back on track. Callus grumbled to himself, but holstered his pistol anyway. The assassin continued to dart through the crowds, taking every chance to try to lose them in a narrow street, only to be met by them on the other side. A last ditch effort down an alleyway turned out to be his greatest mistake, giving Callus a clear shot at him.

Shepard didn't try to stop him this time, letting him line up his shot. Callus knew better than to just pull the trigger. From the first time he'd ever learned to fire a gun, he was taught to control his shots, pick his target wisely, only fire when he was sure he would hit. He wasn't going to let grief and anger drive him to prematurely shoot and possibly miss his one chance at revenge. He let his breath out slowly, steadying the grip on his hand before squeezing the trigger. The round struck the assassin in the back, and he fell. As Shepard landed the shuttle however, the assassin jumped up and ran, faster than before, down the alleyway. This time, both Callus and Shepard opened fire, hoping to catch the assassin with any one of their bullets. They followed him around the corner of the alley and was met with a volley of gunfire from a gunship. Shepard caught a look at the symbol on the ship before diving into cover. Cerberus.

Callus apparently saw it, too, because he was now glaring at Shepard with a new ferocity. Not everyone believed that Cerberus had split from the Alliance. Some thought that they were just deep in cover, doing the things the Alliance wasn't willing to, taking responsibility for failed operations while being privately funded and approved by Alliance officials. Shepard personally thought that that ideology was ridiculous, but there were always one or two conspiracy theorists that seemed to cause problems for humanity. Saren Arterius, a turian Spectre, was one such individual. As a Spectre, an elite group of highly trained individuals who answered directly to the Council, his voice naturally carried a lot of weight with the turian public. Many humans believed that was the main reason behind the fact that they had yet to get a human on the Council. Or in the Spectres, for that matter.

Shepard shook his head slightly, not in the mood to argue. Dhalen Orion's murder put a lot on his mind, and the last thing he needed was a fight with an angry turian. He'd rather go head-to-head with a krogan first. "Come on," he said, motioning to the shuttle. "Let's report back to Commander Anderson."

Callus didn't seem crazy about the idea, but he followed anyway. On the ground where he had shot the assassin was a collapsed sniper rifle with a single bullet hole in it. The gun itself wouldn't be useful to anyone having to shoot anytime soon, but it did pose an opportunity to track the assassin. Callus picked it up and placed in the back seat of the shuttle.

Anderson greeted the two solemnly. "Any luck?" he asked, though he had a good idea of the answer.

Shepard shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he replied.

Callus held the rifle up, "We did manage to snag his rifle. If we can track where it came from, we can find him and take him down."

Anderson nodded. "We'll have some of our technicians take a look at it-"

"With all due respect, Commander," Callus said flatly, "I'd rather my own people investigate this. It was a turian who was assassinated, if you'll remember."

Anderson was taken aback by the young turians attitude, a direct contrast to his father, but managed to maintain his composure. _The apple fell pretty damn far from the tree_, he thought. "Of course," he said, with a slight nod toward Callus. "If you need any help, we are more than happy to assist."

Orion nodded and turned on his heels and walked away. Shepard looked after him for a moment, as perplexed as Anderson was, then turned back to the commander. "I recognized the symbol on the gunship that ambushed us. It was Cerberus. They were the ones that wanted Ambassador Orion dead."

Anderson nodded slowly. It made sense. Cerberus would do anything to give humanity an edge, even if their methods hurt the Alliance or its goals. "We need leads, Lieutenant."

Shepard looked back to where Orion had walked away. "That's going to be easier said than done, sir."

"I'll talk to Ambassador Udina." Shepard's face screwed up at the news. "I know he's not easy to get along with, but he knows how to get things done." He looked across the river, to the apartment complex Shepard an Orion had raced to after the assassination. "Get some rest, Lieutenant. I'll message you once I have more information. We're going to be very busy, very soon."


	5. An Important Mission

_QuickNote: I found out that the section breaks I use in Word don't exactly translate over to the site. I'm going to start putting in breaks to more clearly show the change in sections._

Chapter 5:

An Important Mission

Shepard woke up as suddenly as he had gone to sleep. It wasn't a nightmare or anything like that. But it was jarring all the same. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes for a few minutes, debating whether it was worth it to try and go back to sleep. Eventually reason won over, and Shepard opened his eyes.

The view outside was surprising, to say the least. Rain was falling at a steady pace, and it seemed that quite a bit had already fallen through the night. What was really surprising, though, was the high amount of sunshine glistening through the sliding door. The entire room was lit by the sunlight, accented by the raindrops that had rested against the glass all night long. It was a beautiful sight, especially for Earth.

Shepard felt a disturbance behind him, someone else moving underneath the covers. He turned over…. and immediately changed his mind on what was beautiful.

Swift was also awake, her face a cross between content and mildly sleepy. Her face and hair still showed evidence of their nightly activities, but she didn't care in any way shape or form. It was one of the things Shepard had always loved about her. She knew what she liked, and she was never shamed by it. She was absolutely beautiful.

Upon noticing Shepard, she smiled. "Hey," she whispered, her voice a bit hoarse from inactivity.

Shepard smiled back. "Hey," he replied. "You sleep good?"

Swift's smiled broadened, and Shepard could have sworn that she was grinning slyly. "Kinda hard not to, after last night."

Shepard laughed and kissed her. They held that moment for a while, taking in every possible emotion from each other as they could. But Shepard felt something else in her. Concern? He broke off, slowly to not surprise her too much. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Today's my birthday," came the reply. Swift knew better than to lie to Shepard. The guy could spot a liar in a sea of saints.

His smiled returned for a moment. "Well, happy birthday." But the feeling wasn't gone. She was definitely worried about something. "Why are you worried about your birthday?"

"I'm 18, Shepard. 18 years old and I'm running a gang."

Shepard was taken aback by her tone in the statement. Swift had lead the gang for three years, without hesitation or regret. What had changed? "Yeah?" he said, confused.

Swift sat up, the covers falling off her unclothed body. "The Reds have been my life for ten years. The past three have been especially consuming. I just… is this what I want my entire life to be? Leading a gang day in and day out?"

Shepard paused for a moment. The question wasn't quite new to him. Numerous members of the Reds had considered leaving before. Few actually did. And those that got their way to leave didn't last long "on the right side". They'd always have to resort to stealing, cheating, gambling, and any other illegal activities just to stay alive. Then they'd end up either in jail or dead. "What else is there?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain upbeat and casual. "People like us, we don't last in society's rules."

Swift hesitated, and Shepard knew what she was going to suggest even before she said it. "There's always the Alliance." She sounded a bit unsure, as if the idea was a long shot. Which it was.

Shepard couldn't stop a small chuckle leaving his lips, earning a glare from Swift. "I can't imagine you in dress blues," he commented, still grinning.

"I'm serious," she said sternly. "And you should be, too. This gang can only give so much."

Shepard was getting annoyed now. "This 'gang' has given me everything. I'm not about to just turn my back on them."

Swift didn't say anything for a moment. Then, clearly not wanting to argue, she moved over to Shepard and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just promise me you'll think about it," she replied simply, calmly. "I know things are great now, but they can't last forever."

Shepard thought for a moment, then nodded. The least he could do was keep his options open. Though he hoped he would never have to use it. Swift's smile returned and she kissed Shepard again, this time lingering for longer, her concerns gone. When they separated, Shepard examined her for a moment, taking in every inch of her beauty. And there was a lot of it to take in. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and Swift fell sideways, two holes in her head for an entry and exit wound, the smile never leaving her face.

* * *

Shepard woke up with a start, sitting up immediately. His breaths were quick and shallow, and sweat was everywhere on him. He turned his head and looked out of the sliding door, taking in the sights. The sky was black, either from night or clouds, and rain tore into the glass with a ferocity that could make a krogan nervous. Shepard sighed and buried his head in his hands. _I hate this fucking planet_, he thought. He glanced over at his alarm clock, and got out of the bed. He had a long day ahead of him, preparing to return to Grissom Academy to resume his N7 training. Anderson vouched for his absence, giving Shepard three days to finish his homework, including his dreaded tech essay.

Six days had passed since Dhalen Orion's assassination, and the Alliance couldn't find any real leads. They were still trying, of course, but after Shepard's initial report on the matter he had ceased to become useful to the investigation. It took Udina all of a day to declare Shepard useless and throw him out. Anderson had protested, stating that Shepard was a witness to the event and one of the few to see the assassin, no matter how brief the encounter. Politics eventually won out, however, and Shepard was booked on a ship for Grissom tomorrow.

Shepard ate breakfast in the hotel's cafeteria, thinking about the short and unhelpful investigation, the quasar tournament ad he saw, even some politics, anything to keep his mind off the recurring dream. He was suddenly interrupted by someone sitting across the table from him. Shepard looked at his "guest" in surprise.

Callus didn't seem particularly enthused to be talking with Shepard, but the look in his eyes told him that he was desperate. "I need your help," he said bluntly.

Shepard frowned. "With what?" he asked.

Callus looked over both shoulders, as though looking for a tail. "The investigators of my father's murder cut me out. Said I was too emotionally involved, that being a part of the mission would be too big of a risk."

Shepard nodded slightly. He understood Callus' frustration. He went through the same thing when his first commanding officer was killed by a CAT 6 soldier. "What makes you think _I _can help you?"

"You know your ambassador." Shepard scoffed. _Unfourtunately_, he thought. "You can talk to him, get him to investigate the evidence I found."

"You mean the ones the turians have?" Shepard asked, ignoring the glare Callus threw him from the tone his voice.

"I managed to scan the rifle with my omni-tool. I can give them everything I know, and they can act on it how they see fit, so long as I'm involved. I have to know the truth. I have to know who killed Dhalen."

Shepard looked away for a moment. He wasn't sure if Callus was being true to his word or not, but he knew he couldn't deny the turian a chance at retribution. Finally he spoke, "I can't talk with Udina, but I can tell this to Commander Anderson. He can tell Udina and try and get us in on the investigation. I'm guessing this'll have to be done without the turian hierarchy knowing?" Callus nodded. "Alright. No promises, but I'll see what I can do."

Callus nodded again. "I guess that's all I can ask. Thanks, Lieutenant." He stood up and started to leave. "I'll go and get prepared. Tell me when you've found out anything."

Shepard nodded. "I should go, too. Anderson needs to know about this." _That's going to be a fun conversation._

* * *

"He wants us to do WHAT?!" Udina exclaimed angrily. Anderson had just relayed Callus' request to the human ambassador, and he was taking about as well as Anderson had expected. "Commander, have you ever heard the phrase 'political shitstorm'?" The question was rhetorical, but Anderson nodded anyway. "If the turian hierarchy knew we were even planning on undermining their investigation, they'd bar us from the Council forever! We'd be hung out to dry like the krogan and the quarians!"

Anderson held back an annoyed sigh. "This isn't about the damned politics. A turian ambassador was assassinated on human soil, by a human's hands. We owe them whatever assistance we can provide in the matter. Official or otherwise."

_A typical soldier's response, _Udina thought bitterly. How stupid did he think he was? "If they wanted our 'assistance', they would damn well ask for it! The ambassador's own son-"

"Is the one who wants us looking into this." Anderson interrupted. "He's already given everything he knows about the assassin to Alliance investigators, and they've gathered some new intel. Discreetly," he added before Udina could jump down his throat again.

Udina looked away bitterly. Why couldn't these damn jarheads understand that there was a reason official rules were in place? "What did they find?" he asked grudgingly.

Anderson activated his omni-tool. "According to the scans, the sniper rifle used to kill Dhalen Orion is styled like an old one, not like the ones we use nowadays. It's from the era of the Iraqi Occupation, circa 2010. All studies show it to be a heavily modified version of a 50 Caliber. Not many people would have access to something like that. The only two that I can think of would be the Council and Cerberus. Since Shepard," Udina's face screwed up at the mention of his second least favorite soldier, "saw the Cerberus logo, we can assume that it was one of their contacts. Our best bet for something as modified as this is Goir Namis, an arms dealer out in turian space." As Anderson finished his report, he waited for the ambassador to say what he knew he would.

"And this information is accurate?" Udina spat out.

"As accurate as we're going to get, Ambassador."

Udina rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll set up a ship Captain Foster and get him ready as well."

Anderson nodded and left, smiling at his small victory over the human ambassador.

* * *

Shepard whistled low. It had been two years since he'd seen the _Kennedy_, and when he had, he wasn't in the best of shapes. Now he had the time and focus to enjoy the view. It was roughly the size of a dreadnaught, but half the weight due to its light armor. That didn't mean it was useless in a fight, however. The armor was more durable than most, allowing more pressure or friction before giving away or tearing. Shepard was quite impressed with what the Alliance R&D people had been able to cook up. To his right was supposedly the ships pilot, though Shepard could hardly tell what a guy on crutches could do to fly a ship.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Flight Lieutenant Moreau asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement of fact.

Shepard nodded. "That she is," he replied, not wanting to argue with the crew before he even got on board. He looked at the pilot skeptically. "You're not going to aggravate your injury trying to fly this thing, are you?"

Moreau scoffed. "I don't fly with my feet, Lieutenant. As long as I'm in my chair, I'll be fine." He lowered his voice, as though there was a crowd around them. "Gotta be real careful when I get up to take a piss, though."

Shepard grimaced at the thought. He decided to change the subject. "What have they told you about the mission?" he asked.

Moreau shrugged indifferently. "I'm just the pilot, Lieutenant. I never really know the purpose of half the missions I'm on. That said, there's a rumor about an anti-Cerberus mission?" Shepard nodded. "Well, then I hope we see some good action out-." He stopped suddenly and glared at a couple of engineers working on the _Kennedy_'s thrusters. "HEY! DUMBASSES! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU'RE FUCKING UP THE BALANCE! I CAN'T FLY THIS THING IF IT'S SPINNING AROUND IN CIRCLES!"

Shepard chuckled, amused at the pilot's brash behavior, when he noticed two very serious-looking figures behind him. "Joker!" one of them shouted. The pilot in question turned to the voice and paled at the man behind it. Captain Keith Foster had a reputation for being the hardest-ass son of a bitch in the Alliance military. He ran his ship and his crew with airtight precision. It was the reason his crew never fully liked him. It was also the reason his ship had lasted through the First Contact War to now. Though the old man turned down every promotion offered to him, he still commanded the_ Kennedy_ with the authority of a Fleet Admiral.

Shepard immediately saluted, "Joker" following suit. "At ease, damn it," Captain Foster grumbled. "Joker, get your scrawny ass on the ship and get it ready for takeoff. We've got an important mission to go on." From the sound of his voice, Shepard could tell he doubted the importance of the mission. A look from Anderson was all the confirmation he needed. "Gentlemen, I'll see you aboard." And he followed Joker through the airlock into the _Kennedy_.

Shepard went to follow, but something caught his eye in the window. In the shipyard across the river, the workers were building a small frigate unlike anything Shepard had seen before. Anderson noticed his gazed and smiled slightly. "Won't be finished for another few months," he explained.

"What kind of ship is that?" Shepard asked.

"It's a new class of frigate. Co-developed between humans and turians. Uses some kind of stealth drive to hide heat emissions."

"That sounds… useful," Shepard replied, not sure if he meant it.

"We'll see if she's up for the challenge of meeting our expectations when she's finished," Anderson went on. "Who knows? She might just surprise us. Come on, let's head out. The sooner we find this damn arms dealer, the sooner we can put this problem to rest.

Shepard continued to look at the new frigate, concern etched on his face. Whatever the problem was, he had a feeling it wasn't going away anytime soon.

_Author's Note: This section was originally supposed to be just one chapter, but it ended up going long, so I'm splitting it up into two. Hope the part with introducing Joker was well done. Don't forget to review and spread the story. Let me know how I'm doing._


	6. The MSV Kennedy

Chapter 6:

The _MSV Kennedy_

Shepard had already seen the inside of the _Kennedy_, but he was no less impressed with its smooth and natural look. It may have been the marine in him talking, but the ship almost made him feel right at home. There were three decks: the Combat Information Center, or CIC; the crew deck, which also held the captain's quarters; and the engineering deck, which shared its space with the shuttle bay. It was an old-styled look, with most modern ships having four decks or more, but Shepard liked the classic look and feel to the old ship. There was more history in these halls than in any existing Alliance ship currently in service. There were rumors the Admirals wanted to decommission it soon, but Shepard knew better. To decommission this ship, they'd first have to get through its captain.

Foster glared up and down the halls, scrutinizing every detail of his ship to make sure nothing was amiss. He'd been captain of the _Kennedy_ for more than thirty-two years, and he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to fuck it up now. Any mistake he saw, he'd immediately get one of his crew to fix, usually by a sharp bark of "Fix that goddamned thing!" Shepard couldn't help but be impressed by the pure authority of the captain, as well as the expected intimidation. Commander Anderson also seemed to have a high amount of respect for the man, but after a few years of service, that was most definitely understandable. After a brief yet entirely unnecessary tour of the ship, Foster gave Shepard and Anderson leave to explore more of the _Kennedy_ and talk with the crew, so long as they "get your asses to your stations for takeoff." Shepard didn't have to be told twice. He immediately went to the mess, hoping to catch a few crew members and introduce himself. The next several hours, if not several days, were going to be spent with the crew of the _Kennedy_, and he figured he needed to get to know the crew if he was going to be a productive member of the team. There were four crew staff sitting around the table in the mess hall, talking about the upcoming assignment. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" one of them asked. "I'm just a soldier."

Another one, a female, replied, "You're a sergeant, Riley. You're supposed to be fully briefed on this stuff."

Riley snorted. "Yeah, right. You think the captain tells _me _anything? Especially with that Commander Anderson's lips pressed firmly to his ass? I'm as out of the loop as the rest of you."

The third crew member looked up and paled when he saw Shepard. "Uh, guys?" he spoke up, getting the attention of the other two. The woman looked over at Shepard and flushed slightly, while Riley's arrogance eroded from his face.

"Lieutenant," he said stonily.

Shepard nodded. "Sergeant," he replied.

The woman rolled her eyes at her shipmate and stood up, offering her hand to Shepard. "Dr. Michelle Thomas, Lieutenant," she said, a genuine smile on her face. "It's nice to see you again."

Shepard's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to remember her. "I'm sorry, my memory from the last time I was here is a bit shoddy."

Michelle smiled understandably. "I'm the… well I _was_ a medic at the time, now I'm a medical officer. I work on the _Kennedy_ with Dr. Chakwas and she's teaching me a few things for when I get assigned to another ship, which should be after this mission-" she stopped when she saw Shepard's amused expression. "I'm babbling, aren't I?" she asked, mortified at herself. Shepard just shrugged, and she continued. "Anyway, I patched you up after Akuze,"

Shepard nodded, understanding. "Well, thanks. No one ever told me exactly how bad it was. You mind sharing?"

She smiled grimly and nodded. "It could've been worse, but not by a whole lot. You had too many broken bones to count, and were covered in blood. You were shot in the leg," she threw a glare to Riley, who only waved slightly to the chatting duo, "but nothing life-threatening, thank God."

Shepard's eyes fell back on Riley, who made himself appear as busy as possible with his drink. "What's your story?" he asked.

Riley shrugged. "Alliance brat since the day I was born, joined when I was eighteen, bested my entire class, and here I am," he finally looked over at Shepard. "A lot like you, huh, Lieutenant?"

Shepard shook his head slightly. He and Riley were almost night and day. Shepard was a good soldier, but he never "bested" anyone, never wanted to. He worked with units for a reason. He hoped he'd never have to work an assignment on his own, even if Akuze had proved to him that that was exactly what he'd have to do sometimes. "I'm more of a team player than an Omega varren," he said, amusedly noting the angering expression of Riley.

The other shipmate at the table chuckled slightly, and got up to shake Shepard's hand. "Corporal Frank O'Brien," he introduced himself, his voice thick with an Irish accent. "Heard about Akuze, Lieutenant. Hell of a thing, that. Seems like you've got someone looking out for ya."

Shepard nodded slightly. "Maybe so, Corporal," he replied, though he personally didn't believe the idea himself.

A fifth person joined the group briefly, asking Dr. Thomas for her help in the medbay. She left, and Shepard chatted with Corporal O'Brien for a bit longer, before being called to his station in the CIC. Callus was there as well, and seemed a bit surprised to see Shepard. "Expecting someone else?" Shepard asked.

"Kinda, yeah. With Udina's permanently terrible attitude, I figured you'd be sent back to Grissom by now."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Shepard smirked, and Callus laughed.

"No, I'm actually glad that you're here. Other than Commander Anderson, you seem to be the only human here with any real common sense."

"Well, don't let Captain Foster hear you say that. You'll be tossed out the nearest airlock faster than you can say 'belay that'."

Callus chuckled again and turned away. "Thanks, I'll remember that."

Shepard looked at the turian for a moment. Despite his composure, Shepard could see suffering in Callus, grieving over his father's loss. "How you holding up?" he asked.

Callus shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied, looking over at Shepard. He noticed the unbelieving expression on Shepard's face and sighed. "Dhalen wouldn't want me grieving. It's not our family's way. When his father was murdered by a krogan, he didn't grieve. He found the bastard and took him out. When my mother died, he didn't grieve. He took care of me and my brother and sisters, and raised us to be fighters. I'm sure as hell not going to disrespect his image by breaking down and crying. It's just not the right thing to do. So I'm going to find this son of a bitch, whoever he is, and I'm gonna make him pay. _That_ is how I honor my father. _Not_ by grieving."

Shepard nodded. He understood what Callus was going through, in a way. He noticed Captain Foster giving him a glare that told him to get back to work. "I should go," he said, slipping past Callus and moving to his station.

Joker's voice came in over the PA. "Final prep for takeoff is complete. We are ready to get going."

Foster nodded. "Take us to the Thal System in The Strike Abyssal," he commanded.

"Roger that. Coordinates for Altakiril punched in. We are away."

* * *

The _Kennedy_ shuddered as it left the dock, turning to face Earth's atmosphere. The thrusters went to full blast, and the ship soon found itself out of the planet's orbit before engaging its FTL drive, sending it into faster-than-light speed. It would be about eight minutes before they hit the mass relay, and another hour before they arrived at Altakiril. After the relay was cleared, Foster gave non-critical crew members leave to rest, but warned them to be ready to relieve their shipmates as needed. Shepard took a shift at a heat-load monitor station, but other than that he hung out in the lounge, talking with O'Brien, Callus, and Thomas. Riley insisted on being on the engineering deck to tend to the weapons, which was fine with Shepard. He didn't like the sergeant, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out. He reminded him of the less presentable members of the Reds years ago. He also checked his message. Udina had cleared him for temporary N7 status, though he was sure Admiral Hackett had more to do with this than Udina. The armor had already been delivered to the ship and was waiting in Shepard's locker. Shepard sighed as he went down into the engineering deck and, ignoring the less-than-subtle glare from Riley, he opened his locker and found his armor sitting there. It was a fairly standard Onyx IV moderate armor, but there was one thing that stood out on the chestpiece. Shepard lifted it up and ran his thumb over it, as though it was a drop of paint that could be rubbed off in a matter of seconds. But there, undeniably, was the symbol he'd been working two years to earn.

Captain Foster's rough voice pulled Shepard out of his thoughts, and he placed the chestpiece back into the locker, taking one last look at the N7 symbol branded on the piece near the left shoulder before closing his locker and jogging back to the CIC.


	7. Palaven's Moon

Chapter 7:

_Palaven's Moon_

Altakiril was a smaller planet than most, especially for a turian colony. Of course, that colony had grown into a city in and of itself, rivaling the largest of the Citadel's wards. The environment suffered little for the expansion, due to mass effect energy powering the city. Estivus Erax held the majority of the planet's economical resources, from asari strip clubs to multi-system banks, and everything in between. Goir Namis began his business owning career here as the owner of a bar in downtown Estivus. Unfortunately, the expenses for such an endeavor proved to be too much for him, so he took to weapon smuggling. He used the contacts he'd gathered to sneak weapons and upgrades under the noses of the galaxy's many governments. It paid the bills for his bar, but it came with the risk of being caught.

About a month ago, a human came into his bar, asking for his "other" services. Apparently, the rifle he was using was in need of some extensive modification, not the least of which was making it more powerful. To achieve this, Namis looked to an old human sniper from the 21st century. Its power, when combined with the already-strong Mantis, gave the user almost four miles of distance for a clean kill. To accurately be able to shoot that distance, the scope also had to be modified, retrofit with tech upgrades not yet available on the military market. The heating/cooling system also had to be upgraded to avoid overheating, which the power made almost impossible to fire off a single shot. To this end, he turned to another prototype: thermal clips. Designed to catch heat and allow for faster shooting, the clips could be ejected and inserted into a slot by the butt of the rifle. Normally, it could put an extra four shots on a Mantis rifle before having to be ejected. With the upgrade, only one could be managed. But one was enough, according to the client.

In exchange for his services, the person offered for his group, a human organization known as Cerberus, to protect him and his investment. Namis had heard of Cerberus before, and he knew this was an offer he couldn't refuse, as much as he wanted to. Dealing with Cerberus wasn't going to do anything but increase his risk of being caught, not to mention Cerberus "convincing" him to do more work for them. But, he didn't have much say in the matter. Oh, well. At least business was good.

* * *

Callus shook his head angrily. "No way. Not a chance in hell."

Captain Foster glared at him. "I missed the part where I died and made you captain of this ship, Turian."

"You're not keeping me cooped up in this damn ship while the assassin's still out there."

Shepard sighed. Captain Foster had already set up the away team for Estivus, consisting of Shepard, Riley (much to both his and Shepard's chagrin), and O'Brien. Anderson had offered to go, but Foster said to "let the grunts handle it". Truth be told, Shepard wasn't looking forward to going down to Altakiril. Turian colonies were less than welcoming to humans, and coming across one as remote as Atakiril meant xenophobia would be higher than normal. Which was exactly why Callus was needed for this mission. "Callus can keep the local population calm, letting us find and interrogate Namis without too much incident."

Foster now turned his glare to Shepard. "This isn't your mission, Shepard. I'm the captain of this ship and-."

"And I'm the highest ranking officer on the away team. It's my decision to make," Shepard interrupted. Then, he quickly added, "Sir."

Foster looked as though he wanted to space him then and there. Anderson looked afraid that that was exactly what would happen. Callus looked simply stunned. Shepard just kept eye contact with Foster, hoping he didn't look too forceful or too apologetic. To the surprise of everyone, Foster suddenly laughed. "Goddamn, kid. You're a ballsy son of a bitch, aren't you?" Shepard still didn't breathe, waiting to hear what the captain was going to say next. "Alright, Lieutenant. We'll do it your way."

Shepard finally let out a breath. "Yes, sir."

"Orion, get suited up. You'll replace Riley on this mission."

Riley grinned, pleased to not be going on what he considered to be a fool's errand.

Callus merely nodded, making no other attempts to show his approval. "Understood, Captain."

"We'll be landing in ten minutes. I want you three off my ship in fifteen."

* * *

Estivus Erax was as busy as London, though not quite as compressed. Shops, banks, casinos, and the like lined the streets, where Shepard, Callus, and O'Brien hurried through before the rain began pouring down. Shepard checked his omni-tool. "Intel says Namis owns a bar on this street. _Palaven's Moon_. We're to get in, interrogate Namis, and get out."

"What about Namis?" Callus asked. Shepard looked over at him. He knew exactly what he was asking.

"What about him?" Shepard asked rhetorically. Callus nodded, understanding.

As the team reached the bar, the bouncer out front held up his hand. "No humans allowed," he said bluntly.

Callus stepped forward. "They're with me," he replied.

"Doesn't matter. You can go in, but they have to stay out here. Boss's rules." Shepard felt as though even if the boss hadn't made the rule, this one would still enforce it.

Callus nodded, trying not to let his annoyance show. "Alright," he consented. Then he turned to Shepard and O'Brien. "I'll head in and deal with this. You two stay out here and watch my back."

Shepard nodded. "We'll keep an eye out."

Callus slipped past the bouncer and went inside. It was definitely busy, clients all across the floor. In the VIP area, there were more luxurious types, being entertained by their "host". Of course, in a bar like this, "luxurious" was a very loose word. Callus made his way over to the VIP section, but another bouncer stood in his way. "Password?" he grunted.

"Turian military. Fuck off."

The bouncer looked unimpressed. "Name one turian who wasn't in the military. Doesn't get you VIP rights."

Callus' eyes narrowed. He grabbed the smart-mouthed bouncer and pulled him close, gritting his teeth. "I'm the son of Ambassador Dhalen Orion. I'm investigating his assassination, and you're in my way. Do you want me to explain what happens to people who get in my way?"

He definitely had the bouncer's attention now. "N-no sir," he stammered. "Go on in."

"I'm gonna need a little privacy with," he looked at his target, "Mr. Namis."

"Of course." The bouncer moved quickly to Namis and whispered in his ear. A moment later, he announced that the party was over, and the VIP area was to be cleared out immediately. He then waved for Callus to join him.

As soon as Callus was close enough, Namis threw his arms around him in a brotherly hug. "Orion!" he exclaimed, clearly happy to see him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Callus smiled. One thing he "forgot" to mention was that he and Goir were childhood friends, even joining the military together, though Goir left as soon as his service term had ended. "What, I can't see an old friend?" he asked, returning Goir's gesture.

Goir smiled knowingly. "Nice try. But I know a determined look when I see one. You want something, don't you?"

"More along the lines of 'need'."

Goir frowned for a moment, but then let out a sharp laugh and slapped Callus on the back. "Anything for an old friend, right?" He motioned to a seat and sat down across the small table. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm investigating my father's death."

"Ah, yes. I heard about that. Terrible business, _terrible_ business. What do you need from me?"

"We found the rifle used to kill him." Goir's look suddenly hardened. Callus took note of this and pressed the issue. "Intel says it was modified. By you."

Goir stopped for a moment, thinking about Callus' accusation. He played it off with a smile. "What makes you think _I_ had anything to do with that?" he asked, fighting to keep his composure. Underneath the table, he activated his omni-tool.

"The rifle used was powerful, ten times more powerful than any weapon currently in active service. And black market weapons are only fives time better. The only person who can make this kind of modification is you, am I right?"

Goir forced a smile. "I'm afraid not, Callus. I haven't modified anything in, oh… three months? Business has been horribly slow. How are you so sure it was me?"

Callus' face hardened, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "You just told me." He stood up quickly, drawing his pistol and holding it against Namis' head. At once, the guards of the bar aimed their weapons at him, yelling for him to drop the gun. Goir held his hands up, fear evident on his face. "I want a name, Namis," Callus said, tightening his grip on the pistol.

To his surprise, Namis only smiled. "That's not going to happen."

Callus felt a blinding pain in the back of his head fell to the floor, unconscious.

_Author's Note: I was a bit unhappy with the Shepard/Foster moment. I wasn't sure if I made Foster react the right way. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them, either in a review or a PM. I'm also gonna start doubling my efforts on this story, as there's still a long ways to go. I'll try to get at least one up per week. Anyways, please review, favorite (if you like it, of course), and help spread it around!_


	8. Cerberus Attack

Chapter 8:

Cerberus Attack

As consciousness slowly drifted back to Callus, he became aware of voices echoing through his mind, sounding like they were coming from another room. After a moment, he could piece together bits of the conversation. "… knew the risks when you signed up, Namis."

"Risks? _Risks_?! You call _this_ a fucking risk?! This is a fucking disaster!" Namis. That slimy bastard was right there. Callus opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by the bar's now unbelievably bright neons. Silhouetted against the light were two figures, one turian, one human, who were arguing back and forth. "How the fuck did he find out it was me who modified the rifle?! It was your job to make sure it didn't get traced back to me!"

The human scoffed. "Your reputation precedes you, Namis. It was only a matter of time before your _good_ _deeds_ were noticed. That's exactly why we're here." He looked over to Callus and noticed his eyes open. "Well, well. Looks who's awake."

Callus' eyes adjusted to the light and he could see the human standing over him, smirking. He recognized him immediately. "You."

The smirk widened. "I hear you've been looking for me. Here I am." He pulled Callus to his feet and sat him in a chair. Callus took the opportunity to check his surroundings. There were at least twenty hostiles, all well-armed, bearing the Cerberus logo. On the opposite couch, also tied up and unconscious, were Shepard and O'Brien. The assassin noticed his gaze. "Your friends won't be helping you, I'm afraid. And the _Kennedy_ won't be sending in the cavalry, either. They're a bit… preoccupied at the moment. Fighting a number of viruses with standard-issue Alliance software tends to be a predicament."

Callus never stopped glaring at his father's killer. Whatever he said about Shepard, whatever he said about the _Kennedy_, he didn't care. The man who murdered Dhalen was here, right in front of him. Nothing else mattered. "I'm gonna kill you," he said bluntly.

The assassin laughed. "Of course you will," he said sarcastically. "It's only a matter of time, right?" He laughed, a sound that rang through Callus' ears and shook his very soul. He immediately lunged at the assassin, forgetting his hands being bound behind his back. The two fell onto the ground, the assassin quickly gaining the upper hand. He pinned Callus' shoulders to the ground, effectively stopping any further attack Callus had planned. "_This_ is the son of the great Dhalen Orion? You're not worthy of the name." Callus doubled his efforts to get up, but to no avail. Namis finally stepped in and separated the two, throwing Callus onto the couch across from Shepard and O'Brien, who were now awake.

"Wha' the fock's goin' on?" O'Brien asked, sounding very groggy. It was then Callus noticed a large blood stain on his abdomen. _Oh, shit_. He thought.

Shepard noticed too. "Fuck," he muttered. He glared at Namis. "He needs medical attention, now."

Namis brought the back of his hand across Shepard's face. "Shut the fuck up, you filthy fucking human!"

The assassin walked over to Shepard and knelt down, looking the lieutenant in the eye. "Ah," he said after a beat. "Staff Lieutenant John Shepard. Akuze, right? 2180?"

Shepard's glare turned to him. "Do I know you?" he asked, contempt in his voice.

"No. But I've heard of you. Caused quite a storm when you survived that little escapade. The Boss wasn't happy to hear your name."

"The Boss?" Shepard asked, raising his eyebrows. This whole situation just got more complicated. "You mean, the head of Cerberus?"

The assassin laughed again, and Shepard found himself wanting to follow Callus' example and take this son of a bitch down, if only temporarily. O'Brien grunted again, and he walked over to him. "You, I don't know. A corporal?" He smirked. "If you expect to make it any higher than that, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." As if to amplify his point, he jabbed his finger into O'Brien's wound, causing him to cry out in pain.

"And if you think you're going to kill us," Callus said, "_you'll_ be disappointed." He broke free of his bonds and threw his elbow into the nearest guard, breaking his nose and lowering his weapon and allowing Callus to grab it, aiming it at another guard as the injured one pulled the trigger.

Shepard took the distraction as an opportunity to break free himself, and he brought his arms out in front of him by slipping them over his legs. As soon as this was done, he threw himself at the assassin, but he was ready for him. He blocked Shepard's fists, thrown at the same time due to the bonds, and threw a kick to Shepard's midsection, but Shepard used both arms to block it, before slamming his head into the killer's face.

Meanwhile, Callus dispatched four more guards before Namis threw himself at him. For a weapons dealer, Namis was very poorly trained in combat, and Callus was able to easily overcome him, taking care not to kill him so he could question him later. While he was busy with him, three guards jumped him at once, not wanting to risk their asset's safety with gunfire. Callus punched one in the throat while simultaneously blocking another's jab. He then lashed out with a kick to the third, and brought both fists down on the second at once. Many troops were now starting to run from the bar, afraid of getting caught in the battle.

Shepard wrapped his arms around the back of the assassin's neck, held there by the bindings, and began driving his knee into his abdomen. After a couple of good shots, the assassin brought his hands in the path of the blows, effectively blocking any more shots. Suddenly, he straightened, stretching Shepard's arms. Shepard brought his head crashing into the assassin's again, breaking through the binds and freeing his hands. The assassin swung for Shepard's head, who raised his arm to block it and brought his own fist around to the killer's gut.

Callus stomped his foot on the side of a guard's knee, breaking the bone and dropping him to the floor. Before he could deliver the final blow, his friend ran forward and kicked out at him. Callus caught the leg and brought his palm across his knee, breaking it, and quickly grabbed his head and twisted sharply. The injured man on the ground grabbed a knife and tried to stab Callus' foot, but he sidestepped and kicked the guard in the face. His fight finished, he looked for Shepard and noticed him fighting with the assassin. "Shepard!" He ran toward the fight, but a huge crash from above stopped him in his tracks.

Shepard noticed it, too, and turned to see an Atlus mech had landed in the middle of the bar. The distraction was all the assassin needed to hook Shepard in the face. As Shepard fell, the assassin dropped a flashbang to cover his escape and made a beeline for the door. The mech turned to Shepard and raised its gun to finish him off, the driver struggling to see him due to the flashbang. Callus took the chance to sprint forward, activating his omni-tool. As the driver's eyesight began to clear, he could make out the silhouette of Shepard. He raised the mech's arm and prepared to fire, but his HUD began flashing angrily, displaying a warning message directing in front of him. _What the hell?_ he thought. Suddenly, sparks were flying all around him, blinding him worse than the flashbang had. The mech fell, collapsing under its own weight. Callus jumped from the top of it, landing less than gracefully, but with no real damage.

Shepard stood, clutching his throbbing jaw and blinking several times. He noticed the mech, now little more than a scrap heap. "How the hell did you do that?" he asked.

Callus held up his omni-tool before deactivating it. "Overload module. Pretty standard, but mine's modified to where it's extremely effective when my omni-tool is right on the target."

Shepard frowned. "How'd you get a mod like that?"

Callus looked at Namis, who was crawling to the exit as quickly as his injured body could take him. "Do you really need to ask?" he asked. He stepped over to where Namis was and flipped him over on his stomach, aiming his pistol at his head. "Who hired you?" he demanded.

"Go fuck yourself," Namis spat out.

Callus stepped on Namis' neck, cutting off his air supply. "A name! Now!"

Shepard turned away from the scene, his eyes catching the Atlus driver stumbling out of the cockpit. He grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the junk heap. "Cerberus. Tell me everything you know."

The driver didn't even flinch. "You think you can stop us, Alliance? Cerberus is bigger than you can possibly imagine." He suddenly bit down hard. As foam began to flood out of his mouth, he grinned. "Humanity _will_ rise. One way or another." Then he fell to the floor, the cyanide pill doing its work.

"Fuck," Shepard muttered. A gunshot turned his gaze back to Callus, who was walking away from Namis' corpse. He then turned to see O'Brien, still on the couch. He jogged to him and checked his vitals. "He's still alive. Barely. We have to get him out of here."

Callus nodded and applied medi-gel to the wound. The bleeding stopped, but so much blood had been lost already. Shepard grabbed O'Brien's arm and hoisted him onto his feet. "_Kennedy_, this is shore party, we need immediate extraction! O'Brien's hit." No answer. "Shore party to _Kennedy_, come in!" Nothing. "Fuck! Orion, _Kennedy's_ not responding!"

Callus seemed to pale. "Shit," he muttered. "Cerberus uploaded a virus to the _Kennedy_. They're not going to be able to respond for a while."

"Fuck. Alright, let's get the hell out of here."

Callus nodded and ran to the door. As he opened it, his expression darkened even further. "Getting there's going to be a bitch," he said, motioning to the street. "Cerberus just sent reinforcements."


	9. Extraction

Chapter 9:

Extraction

If Estivus Erax was unwelcoming before they went into the bar, it now looked completely inhospitable. Rain pounded against the concrete and steel, making every surface somewhat slippery. Puddles collected in the sides of the streets, sometimes going ankle deep. Lightning dance in the night sky, casting an ominous blue flash of light over the city and occasionally threatening to strike close to any passerby. Thankfully, there were few on the street as most had gone home before the storm hit. But that was the best of the news.

From first glance, it seemed as though every Cerberus agent had converged onto the Alliance team's location. As soon as the trio left the safety of the bar, gunfire blasted toward them with a deafening roar. Shepard took cover behind a skycar, setting O'Brien down next to him and taking care not to aggravate his wound. He needed to get back to the _Kennedy_, and he needed to do it thirty minutes ago. With the scale of the Cerberus forces in the streets, getting to the ship was a long shot as it was, much less carrying a grievously injured soldier.

Callus seemed to notice this as well. "We'll never make it like this," he called out, returning fire to the nearest squad of troops. As two soldiers fell, the third and fourth pressed on harder than before, putting serious dents in the skycar Callus was ducking behind.

Shepard knew what he was about to suggest, but he immediately banished the thought. "We're not leaving anyone behind!" he yelled over the roar of gunfire and clap of thunder.

Callus sighed. Personally, he didn't like the idea of leaving a man to his death any more than Shepard did. But on the other hand, they couldn't hold out much longer. Leaving O'Brien behind would most certainly help them move faster… no. He couldn't allow himself to stoop to that level. No matter how easy it would make things, he would never become a monster. "I'll cover you; you move up and get to the next patch of cover."

Shepard nodded and hoisted O'Brien to his feet, crouching low to stay behind cover. As Callus popped up and fired, Shepard made a break for the next spot of cover, a metal table that offered just enough protection from Cerberus' continuing fire. He set O'Brien down and shot at the troops to cover Callus' advance, but the sheer number of Cerberus' forces were overwhelming. _Goddamnit, _he thought. This situation was spiraling downhill faster than he could climb. Once again he tried the _Kennedy_. "Shore team to _Kennedy_; come in, for Christ's sake!"

Finally, a voice cut through the static. "Good God." It was Anderson. "Lieutenant, is that you?"

Shepard laughed in relief. Across the street, Callus allowed himself the slightest of smiles as he shot down another Cerberus agent. "It's damn good to hear your voice, sir!" he called. "Situation's critical down here. O'Brien's wounded, and we've got more hostiles than we can deal with. We need assistance and we need it now."

There was a pause as Anderson was no doubt conversing with Captain Foster, trying to see the best way to help the squad out of the city. After a moment, Anderson came back over the radio. "Alright, Shepard, we're sending Riley and Dr. Thomas in the shuttle. Activate your PEB so we know where to send them."

Shepard nodded and activated his PEB and Callus did the same. It only took a few minutes for the shuttle to arrive and open up, Riley firing at the Cerberus troops. As the shuttle landed, Thomas jumped down, stumbling on the pavement. Shepard grabbed her arm to steady her, taking a couple of shots to his shields in the process. Thomas nodded her thanks and turned to O'Brien. "My God," she muttered. He looked horrible, blood staining his nearly every inch of his armor. His face was as pale as it death itself. The wound was closed due to the medi-gel, but that did little for the amount of blood that had been lost. "Help me get him on his feet," she told Shepard.

He fired a few more shots at the agents, now trying to flank the Alliance troops using the side alleys and rooftops, then took O'Brien's arm a third time, with Thomas on the other, and carried him to the shuttle. Riley continued firing on the troops as they climbed in, but Callus didn't budge. "Orion, let's go!" Shepard yelled.

Callus glanced in his direction, frustrated with his inability to finish this fight, and ran for the shuttle. As he jumped in, he tossed a glare at Riley. "Could your aim be any worse?" he asked, collapsing his rifle as the shuttle took off.

"Could _your_ timing?" Riley shot back.

"Enough, both of you," Shepard intervened before the two soldiers killed each other. He turned to Michelle, who was tending to O'Brien's injury. "How is he?"

"The shot itself wasn't so bad. It's the loss of blood that concerns-." She stopped mid-sentence. Quickly, as though she was panicked, she pressed two of her fingers against O'Brien's neck. "No, nonononono." She pulled his chestpiece off and ripped his undershirt. She started pushing on his chest. "He doesn't have a pulse." She stopped her thrusts and lifted his head back to allow passage to his lungs, pinched his nose, and blew air directly into his mouth. After another blow, she resumed her chest thrusts, alternating between the two steps repeatedly for the next few minutes.

Shepard watched her for another minute or two, but he knew the truth. O'Brien was gone. "Dr. Thomas-," he began.

"Come on!" Michelle yelled, now pounding her fist into the soldier's chest. "Come on, Goddamnit!"

Shepard placed his hand over her fist, gently but firmly stopping her. "Michelle," he said softly, trying to keep her calm. She turned to him, tears in her eyes. "He's gone."

Michelle paused, the tears now streaming down her face. She buried her face in Shepard's shoulder and cried. Shepard looked to Callus, unsure of what to do. Callus looked away, himself unsure of how to comfort her. Finally, Shepard awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder.

* * *

Shepard ran upstairs and into the last room on the right. Swift was there, along with three other Reds. "What happened?" he demanded.

Swift looked at the ground, where a body was laying with a bullet hole in its head. Michael Hollister answered, "Fucking turian broke in here. No telling what he would have done if I hadn't seen him."

Shepard glared at him. "Instead of, I don't know, kicking him out, or finding out what he did want?"

"Shepard-," Swift tried to intervene.

"No," Shepard interrupted sharply. "Goddamnit, what the fuck were you thinking?! The last thing we need right now is the cops on our asses. Do you know how much trouble you've caused?"

Hollister shrugged. "It's a fucking turian, Shepard. Who the fuck's going to miss it?"

Shepard stepped forward, ready to kill him, but Swift stepped between them. "Just stop, okay?"

He stopped and glared at her. "How many times are you going to let him pull shit like this?" he asked.

Swift didn't flinch. "I'm not about to start crucifying our own members, Shepard."

"For God's sake, can't you see how dangerous he is?"

"He's a member of the gang, and until he does something that warrants an expulsion, he'll be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?"

Shepard turned his glare to Hollister, who was looking completely wry. After a beat, he looked back at Swift. "Fine," he said flatly, turning to leave the group alone. As he left the building, he turned in time to see the turian dropping from the room's window, where three more members of the Reds carried it away to dispose of it. Shepard shook his head. Sooner or later, something would have to be done about Michael Hollister.

_Author's Note: The next chapter will be up soon enough. At least, that's the hope. The last section of this chapter ended up coming into my head on the fly, so I apologize in advance for its randomness. Please remember to review and let me know how I'm doing. Also, I'm debating whether or not to continue this into the games, writing novelizations of each of them. Let me know if that's a good idea or not in your review, if you don't mind._


	10. Dead on Arrival

_QuickNote: Okay, so I'm gonna try to push my way through this chapter, as it's the next one that I know exactly how I want it to go. And, as you may have noticed, All-Out Brawl has been taken down. Turns out writing for a fighting story is harder than it looks. Kudos to NetherRealm, I guess… Anyway, here's the next chapter, brought to you from the eyes of David Anderson._

Chapter 10:

Dead on Arrival

Anderson was getting worried. It had been nearly an hour since the ground team had gone into Estivus, and there was still no contact with them. Something had to have gone wrong. Foster was no less calm, pacing around the CIC, checking the mission frequency every so often. Anderson could hear him periodically mutter under his breath "Goddamn turian", most likely referring to Callus.

Anderson turned back to the monitor, using the _Kennedy's_ scanners to look for Namis' bar. Unfortunately, the scanners could only go so far, and the bar seemed to be outside their range. The communications officer had suggested that Anderson boost the power by realigning the sensor array, but Anderson decided against it. He was a soldier, not a technician. Part of him wished he'd done better in the tech classes during N7 training. According to Shepard's file, he wasn't doing much better. That boy reminded Anderson so much of himself; the brass often asked him if he taught Shepard himself. Hell, sometimes _Anderson_ thought the boy took after him. The thought made Anderson frown. There were definitely better role models in the galaxy.

* * *

After Udina ordered Shepard's promotion, Anderson found the lieutenant waiting in the lobby, silent and clasping his hands together. Anderson stepped over to him and sat down across from him. The boy didn't say anything for a moment, then he raised his head slightly. "CAT 6?" he asked, remorse not even the last thing on his mind.

Anderson shook his head. "Try Staff Lieutenant," he replied, handing Shepard a datapad with the information.

Shepard looked over the datapad, scrutinizing his new rank. He looked up at Anderson, eyebrows raised. "So… Telling Udina to piss off wasn't a bad thing? I may have to remember that."

Anderson grinned. "Yeah, well… I wouldn't make a habit of it, just to be on the safe side." Shepard nodded, still smiling. It slowly faded, however, and Anderson knew what was bothering him. "How bad was it down there?" he asked.

Shepard looked away, unable to look him in the eyes. "You saw," he said simply.

Anderson nodded. "Yeah, I saw." There was a pause, before he mustered up the courage to speak again. "Did you know the other marines well?"

"Not really. We were only there a couple of days before…" he cut himself off. Then he chuckled slightly. "There was this one kid, couldn't have been more than twenty. Corporal Toombs. He was eager to please Captain Rooden, constantly asking what he was supposed to do next. Think all he did was piss him off. He was there for seven hours before the camp was attacked." He shook his head. "A goddamn setup."

This caught Anderson's attention. "What was a setup?"

Shepard finally looked him in the eye. "It was an Alliance distress beacon," he said with finality. "That's why we were on Akuze."

* * *

The _Kennedy's_ VI voiced itself through the PA. "Alert! Virus detected within the _Kennedy's_ systems. Diverting routines to combat."

Foster turned to his monitor. "A virus? How the hell-?"

"Alert! Multiple virus' detected. System reboot required."

Anderson opened his omni-tool. "Fredericks! Get to the CIC immediately!"

"Aye aye, Commander. On my way."

Anderson typed a command on his console, but static was all he got. _Damn it,_ he thought. He stood and made his way to the elevator, waiting for Fredericks to arrive. As soon as the elevator door opened, he thrust his arm in and pulled Fredericks out. "Come on. We need the virus purged ASAP."

Fredericks walked up to the system access and activated his omni-tool. "Holy shit," he muttered. "There's more virus' in here than any system in the Alliance can handle. It's going to take me a bit to reset everything."

"How long?"

"Forty-five minutes. At least."

"You've got fifteen," Captain Foster interjected.

* * *

Anderson waited impatiently for the call to connect. It had taken him three hours to find the frequency of the ship Admiral Tobias Harel was on. It then had taken another two to get clearance to speak with the admiral, and even then he had to lie about his reason for calling. After another moment, Admiral Harel's face showed up on his screen. "Commander Anderson. I've been asleep for two hours, which is pretty shy of the sleep needed by any human being. You'd better have a damn good reason for waking me up."

"I hope so, sir," Anderson replied. "It's about Akuze."

The admiral's face grew even more grave. "What about it?" he asked.

"The reason for the mission to Akuze was never clear."

"It was a classified mission, Commander. It stands to reason that the reason wouldn't be clear to anyone but the marines carrying it out and the officer who gave the orders."

"Classified aside, sir, almost an entire unit of Alliance soldiers was wiped out. The mission's purpose may have something to do with it."

"With a thresher maw attack? Surely you understand how ridiculous that sounds, Commander."

"Whatever the reason for their being there, it brought them close enough to a thresher nest for the maws' predatorial instincts to drive them to attack the marines. The survivor believes it may have been a setup."

Admiral Harel glared at Anderson. "Are you suggesting what I think you are, Anderson?"

"Absolutely not, Admiral. I'm simply trying to piece together every fact about this that I can."

"Let me give you some advice, Commander: stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." The call abruptly ended, leaving Anderson baffled.

* * *

"I've got it! It's starting back up now!"

Anderson returned to his station, just in time to receive a transmission. . "Shore team to _Kennedy_; come in, for Christ's sake!"

"I've got shore team!" Anderson called over his shoulder. Then he spoke into the radio. "Lieutenant, is that you?"

. "It's damn good to hear your voice, sir!" Shepard called. "Situation's critical down here. O'Brien's wounded, and we've got more hostiles than we can deal with. We need assistance and we need it now."

Anderson turned to Foster, who spoke into his omni-tool. "Riley, Thomas, suit up. You're going down and extracting the shore team."

Anderson nodded and turned back to his monitor. "Alright, Shepard, we're sending Riley and Dr. Thomas in the shuttle. Activate your PEB so we know where to send them." A moment later, two dots appeared very close together. "Got 'em!"

It was a tense ten minutes before the shuttle arrived. Anderson stood in the shuttle bay as it landed and rushed forward to help the team, but was greeted with a crying Dr. Thomas, an angry Sergeant Riley, a thoughtful Callus Orion, and a somber Lieutenant Shepard. Their faces said it all: O'Brien was dead. As Callus walked away from the shuttle, Foster glared after him. "Did you at least learn something after all this?" he demanded.

Callus didn't stop, but spoke in a low tone. "The person who's in charge of the assassin is Michael Hollister."

_Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long… I really had a hard time finding a way to get through this chapter. As for the Anderson flashbacks, don't worry, this won't be the last of them. I'll finish up that arch later on down the road, as well as Shepard's Earthborn arch. Please review and let me know how I'm doing!_


	11. Back From the Dead

Chapter 11

Back from the Dead

Shepard was floored. It had to be a mistake. It had to be. "That's impossible," he whispered.

Commander Anderson noticed his expression. "You alright?" he asked.

The others looked toward Shepard as well, but his eyes were locked on Callus. It couldn't be true. "Are you sure about that name?" he asked, louder.

Callus paused for a moment. The look on Shepard's face… he wasn't sure if Shepard wanted to know if it was what he really said. Whoever this person was, he knew him. And the recognition wasn't a good one. "Lieutenant-," he began.

"Say the name again," Shepard snapped. He wasn't angry with Callus. But it couldn't be right.

There was another pause. Then: "Michael Hollister."

The name hit Shepard like a krogan fist. He shook his head. "That's impossible. Hollister's dead." He began to storm past the group and to the elevator.

"How do you know?" Anderson asked. Shepard didn't pay attention, he was so focused on getting to the crew deck. "Lieutenant!" Shepard stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. "How do you know Hollister's dead?"

Shepard still didn't turn, but he couldn't ignore the commander again. "I killed him," he said simply, before taking the rest of the steps to the elevator.

* * *

Shepard coughed, pain shooting through his lungs as he tried to breathe. Definitely a broken rib or two. He rolled over on his back and looked up at the sky, which was pitch black save for a few stars. The window he fell out of was shattered, and there were pieces of glass everywhere. And inside the room…. _No,_ he thought. That couldn't be it. She couldn't be dead. H looked to his right and saw Hollister on the ground, completely still. No way he survived the fall. Right now that wasn't Shepard's concern. He had to get to Swift. He had to know that she was alright.

The elevator ride back up to the top floor was excruciatingly slow. The entire world seemed to slow to a crawl. It was then Shepard realized he was holding his side, which was bleeding heavily. As the elevator doors opened to the main room on the top floor, Shepard could hear sirens approaching, the police deciding it was safe to come in and clean up what was undoubtedly just another gang war. It didn't matter. Not to him. To him, all that mattered was getting to her.

As he reached her body, he knelt down and cradled her in his arms. Tears began to flow from his eyes as he gently tried to shake her awake. His efforts were futile, and he was getting weaker and groggier by the minute. As the police arrived at the top floor, Shepard fell unconscious next to Swift, satisfied that he'd taken care of the one that betrayed her and killed her.

* * *

The mess hall was quiet, except for the occasional PA announcement. Shepard was two drinks in, despite still technically being on-duty. In any other circumstance, he'd have confidence that he could stop himself ahead in time. But this wasn't a normal circumstance.

Dr. Thomas had stopped crying, but she refused to come out of the med bay, and Dr. Chakwas didn't have the heart to try and get her to work. She alone checked out Shepard and Callus, much to their chagrin. Callus had a graze on his arm, nothing a dose of medi-gel couldn't fix. Shepard had a moderate concussion, but that wasn't what had her worried. The entire checkup, the young lieutenant seemed very distracted, only answering questions after the third or fourth time of her asking. She assumed it was because of O'Brien's death. Both Foster and Anderson dodged the question, making Chakwas wonder what Shepard was hiding.

As Shepard downed another glass of scotch, he felt himself beginning to slip. Annoyed at himself for not pacing himself, he set the glass on the table and leaned back in his seat. Hollister was alive. The words echoed through his mind over and over again, leaving him feeling worse and worse. He saw it all again; the fight, Hollister holding Swift hostage, the bullet going through her head, the fall out of the window… Shepard rushed to the restroom and began throwing up, all the alcohol leaving his system.

"Lieutenant Shepard, report to the captain's cabin immediately," Captain Foster announced over the PA.

Shepard knew what was coming. His history with Hollister made him a liability to the mission. They would most likely drop him off at Grissom, and he'd never find Hollister. He'd never correct the mistake of making sure the son of a bitch was dead. Slowly, grudgingly, he headed to Foster's cabin. When he reached it, tapped the fastener to announce his arrival and waited for the inevitable gruff "Come in" from the captain.

As Shepard entered the cabin, the Foster motioned for him to sit. Unsure of how to start, Shepard simply asked, "What's our next destination, sir?"

"Grissom Academy," Foster replied. Shepard nodded, the knot in his stomach tightening even more. "Dr. Thomas requested we drop her off there, and we need to replenish a lost number." The lieutenant's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "O'Brien was a biotic," Foster explained. "Grissom's got some of the best biotics not on active assignment. I was wondering if you had anyone in mind for the job."

Shepard was floored again. Nothing about him being kicked off the mission? "Uh… Well, as a matter of fact, I've got a friend in Grissom who's a biotic."

Foster nodded. "Send me his name when we dock and I'll request his transfer."

"Yes, sir." After a moment, Shepard couldn't stand it any longer. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Hollister and I have enough history for me to be blacklisted from the Alliance until he's dealt with. Why wouldn't you drop _me_ off at Grissom?"

Foster looked down for a moment. "I don't know exactly how bad the blood between you and the Hollister character runs, but I know if I had the chance to put some unfinished business to rest, I'd sure as shit would wanna do it. It's not my place nor my right to deny you the chance to set things straight. If this guy needs to be stopped, and you wanna help, by all means, help us stop the son of a bitch." Shepard considered what he said for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak before being cut off by Foster. "But, when the time comes, I want you as clearheaded as humanly possible. Do I make myself clear?"

Shepard nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then let's find this piece of shit."

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. Been a bit busy. I'm gonna try to get the next chapter up before the weekend, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. Please remember to review and let me know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong._


	12. Return to Earth

Chapter 12:

Return to Earth

Alenko hadn't needed much motivation to leave Grissom Academy. His biotic training was going astronomically poorly, with every supposed challenge taking less than a tenth of Kaiden's strength to complete. BAaT had done more for his abilities, and that was about the worst place he could think of to do any sort of training. When security came to his dorm, he half expected them to be there to arrest him, take him away for some experiment, probably trying to find a way to make the L2 implants work properly. It turned out, he was needed for an important mission, something to do with the recent assassination of the turian ambassador. What was his name? Orion? It didn't matter. Kaiden was finally going to be able to work in a real Alliance operation. He'd been waiting for this chance for years.

After the _Kennedy_ left the dock of Grissom, Joker set a course for Earth. If Hollister was still alive, one of the Reds would probably know where to look for him. After the little civil war, the Reds had decreased considerably in strength, but there were still enough loyalists to keep the gang up and running. The trick was getting them to talk to an Alliance officer. Callus had offered to interrogate them, but everyone knew a turian wasn't likely to get any answers from a human gang member. The gang needed someone they already knew, which left the job to Shepard. However, Foster didn't feel comfortable sending Shepard into San Diego alone. Whether his concern was for Shepard's safety or his psyche, the lieutenant didn't know. Foster insisted he bring Alenko and Riley into the city for reconnaissance purposes, but they were given strict orders not to interfere unless the situation got out of hand.

Shepard, in civilian clothes, walked slowly to the gang's old hideout. It was doubtful the gang was still there after ten years, but it was as good a place to start as any. Every step seemed to add another weight of lead to his feet, until soon he felt like he was dragging himself to where he needed to be. He needed answers, though. And he wasn't leaving without them.

A figure on the rooftop near the hideout caught his attention. He immediately started running toward it, hoping that he or she would know where the Reds were located. Whoever it was, they were fast. It took quite a bit of Alliance training for Shepard to keep up, and he even had to climb onto the roof to stay close. "Wait!" he called out.

The runner looked behind them for a moment, but continued onward, even gaining a bit of speed before jumping to the next building. Shepard followed suit, though his landing wasn't as graceful. As he stood up, his target brought their foot toward his face, but he caught it easily and pushed them back. He stood, ready to fight again, but the runner turned and continued along their path. Shepard sprinted forward and tackled the runner to the rooftop. "Stop!" he exclaimed, pinning her arms to the metal roof. Wait… _her_ arms? He was chasing a woman? It didn't matter. "Just stop for a goddamn minute!"

After another moment, she stopped squirming and got her first good look at her assailant. Confusion swept over her face. "Sh-Shepard?" she stammered.

Shepard relaxed slightly, but didn't budge. "Yeah, it's me," he replied. He let her up, tensing in case she decided to run again, but she simply sat up, staring at him.

"Jesus," she muttered. "We all thought you were dead."

Shepard frowned. "We? You mean the Reds?"

She nodded. "Supposedly you died in prison after the big civil war. Hollister took control afterward, pretty much selling us all to some PMC."

That definitely caught Shepard's attention. "Hollister?" he demanded.

She looked away, as though suddenly remembering the feud between the two. "Shit."

"Where is he?"

"Look, Shepard I didn't want to follow him-."

"Where?" he repeated, more forcefully.

"Back off a bit, Shepard," Kaidan spoke into his earpiece. "We don't want to cause an incident here."

"Hollister's not the kind of guy who likes to hear the word 'no'," the woman continued, "I didn't know what he was planning to do. I wasn't there when he killed Swift-."

At the mention of Swift's name, Shepard lost it. He grabbed her throat, but was careful not to push too hard. "Stop," he said, his voice threateningly low. "Not another word about that. Just tell me where Hollister's gone, right now."

Tears were now freely falling down her face. "I don't know. I'm just a supply runner."

"Then who in the Reds can tell me?"

After a sob or two, she looked away. "Follow me. I'll take to the head of the city's gang."

Shepard let go of her neck, letting her roll her head around and catch her breath. "The city's gang?" he repeated.

"We kinda spread out over Earth after Cerberus took over. Split us a little thin, but we get by."

"You people let Cerberus take control of you?" Shepard asked incredulously.

She smirked slightly. "You know, you used to be one of us 'people'. What, the Alliance have you all high and mighty now?"

So the Reds did know about Shepard's allegiances. That would probably complicate things. "Fair enough. Let's see if that still counts for something."

* * *

As Alenko saw Shepard and the runner move further into the city, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread he had growing in his mind. Shepard was going to the hideout of the Reds, a gang he'd been in for 13 years and then turned his back on for the Alliance. He wasn't going to receive a friendly welcome.

And yet, it wasn't Shepard he was afraid for.

* * *

The compound was small, with freight containers littering the area with weapons, drugs, and any other supplies the Reds thought might sell. Shepard took in all of his surroundings, noting possible exit points and counting each potential hostile. Anyone there who knew who he was glared at him, wanting to know who this deserter thought he was, coming in here as though he hadn't done anything wrong. Shepard couldn't blame them. There was a time when he would've done the exact same thing.

Blake didn't look like he wanted to rip Shepard's head off, but he wasn't very welcoming, either. As Shepard and the runner approached, he took her aside and whispered loud enough for Shepard to hear. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"I found him near the old place. My guess is he was looking for us."

"Why?"

Shepard took a step forward. "Because you have information I need," he answered for her.

Blake didn't flinch. Slowly, smoothly, he turned around and looked Shepard in the eye. "And why would I tell you a goddamn thing?"

"Because you owe me, Blake. I let your ass live after that shit you pulled with Swift."

Blake smirked. "Least I didn't get her killed."

Shepard clenched his fist and took another, more intimidating step forward. "You didn't hold the gun," he say lowly, threateningly, "but you're just as responsible."

"And yet, here I am. And, just between you and me, that Alliance 'scare them into talking by looking like you're about to beat them up' crap doesn't work on me."

Shepard, tired of the runaround, pulled his pistol out and aimed it at Blake's forehead. "How about the 'aim gun at the head' trick? Does that work for you?" Blake's expression didn't change, but his eyes flashed with fear. "Just tell me where to find Michael Hollister, and I'll get out of here."

Blake folded his arms, trying to control his breathing. "He's got a ship. Some frigate that isn't registered even on Cerberus channels."

"Then how do I find it?"

"You don't," he replied simply. "He finds you."

Shepard considered pulling the trigger. He had gotten all the information he was going to get out of this guy. A dead fucking end. Unless…. If Hollister had to find them for them to find him, then he'd need to get his attention. "Don't take this personally, Blake," he said before pulling the trigger, "but it's your turn to be the martyr."

The effect was immediate. The runner screamed, drawing more attention to Blake's container. Shepard clotheslined a Red running into the container and made for the exit, about twelve hostiles firing on him and missing. As Shepard reached the exit, fire and biotic attacks blasted the pursuing Reds backward, buying Shepard time to reach their shuttle.

"What the hell happened?" Foster demanded over the radio.

"I set the bait," Shepard replied, his voice hollow.

Alenko gave him a sideways glance. He'd never heard Shepard peak like that before. As much as he wouldn't admit it, this was as personal as it could get.

"Goddamnit. Get your asses back to the _Kennedy_ ASAP. I want to know just what the hell is going on."

"We're on our way now, sir."

Alenko faced Shepard fully now. "Did we at least get any new intel?" he demanded.

Shepard didn't turn to face him. "Just that we're in for a hell of a time, very soon."


End file.
